


The 34th Amelia Bones Solstice Party

by Woldy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Winter Solstice, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 12:44:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woldy/pseuds/Woldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This year there is no invitation to Amelia Bones' Solstice party on  Augusta's mantelpiece. There is no longer an Amelia to throw it. Yet she  always said the party must go on, and Augusta's determined that it  will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The 34th Amelia Bones Solstice Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cranky__crocus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cranky__crocus/gifts).



> Written for [](http://cranky-x-crocus.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**cranky_x_crocus**](http://cranky-x-crocus.dreamwidth.org/) for [](http://hoggywartyxmas.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**hoggywartyxmas**](http://hoggywartyxmas.dreamwidth.org/) 2014. Many thanks to [](http://mindabbles.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://mindabbles.dreamwidth.org/)**mindabbles**  for betaing; any remaining errors are mine alone.

It's November 17th when Augusta realises why something seems off about her holiday plans this year: there is, for the first time in three decades, no invitation to Amelia Bones' Solstice party on her mantelpiece. No wonder. There is no longer an Amelia Bones to host it.

Augusta has never been one for weeping. She pours herself a stiff drink and attributes the dampness of her eyes to a deterioration in the quality of Ogden's.

_No Amelia Bones Solstice party._ It seems wrong. Never, during the rise of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, did December pass without Amelia gathering a dozen women to ply with food and alcohol.

"We need good friends and good spirits more than ever," Amelia said, the year Dorcas Meadows died. "I know Dorcas believed that community was as important as spellwork. Please join me in remembering and celebrating our dear friend Dorcas Meadows. To Dorcas!"

"To Dorcas!" they roared, drinks hoist in the air. There was barely a dry eye in the house.

_No Amelia Bones Solstice party._ What sort of tribute is that? Amelia would want them to gather together and be merry. She'd want that community of women to outlive her. Damn it, she'd want a party. Not just a wake, thrown together at short notice by her sister and filled with people looking over their shoulders for Death Eaters, but a real party.

Augusta sets down her drink and picks up a quill.

  
_Dear __________________

For many years Amelia Bones brought us together for her Solstice Party. I know she would not want us to go without the opportunity to celebrate and commiserate together. Amelia always believed that the party should go on.

In memory of her, please join me at the 34th Amelia Bones Solstice Party.

21st December, 1996  
8pm onwards  
Longbottom Cottage, Bluebell Close

Augusta Longbottom

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Over the next week Augusta finds herself deluged by Owls.

_Wouldn't miss it for the world. More than happy to bring holly, ivy, and mistletoe if you'd like help with the decorations._ Pomona Sprout replied.

Shortly afterwards, Augusta receives the reply from Wilhelmina: _Count me in! Did I ever mention that Pomona and I met at the Bones Solstice party in 1985?_

Augusta doesn't remember the 1985 party, but she suspects it was one of those she left early to collect Neville from the babysitter. She makes a mental note to ask somebody what happened.

Nobody declines the invitation, and nearly everyone volunteers to bring something: Charity Burbage offers two Muggle Christmas cakes, Gwennog Jones announces she'll bring a keg of beer, Mafalda Hopkirk proposes a wheel of brie, and Griselda Marchbanks volunteers her famed chestnut cake. Rosmerta's owl arrives looking tired and bearing a message offering to bring "anything from the pub, so long as I don't have to serve it," which is the only offer Augusta declines. It doesn't seem fair to cut into Rosmerta's profit margins.

Whether she intended it or not, the party has become a communal effort.

A small part of Augusta is peeved at the offers of help. She's perfectly competent and has organized bigger events than this before, but she also suspects that it's not really about her. People aren't offering because she needs help; they're doing it because the cakes and booze are how Amelia's friends show their affection for her, and for each other. That is, after all, how Amelia expressed her affection for them. Framed like that, there's no reasonable way that Augusta can say no.

So when the Owl from Nymphadora Tonks arrives offering to bring rock cakes again, Augusta winces in recollection, and forces herself to reply politely.

_Thank you, Nymphadora. I'm sure Amelia would appreciate the effort._

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Damn good show," Wilhelmina says, mug of mulled wine in hand.

An hour into the party, the volume level is already such that Augusta has to raise her voice. Beside the Christmas tree, Rolanda Hooch and Gwennog Jones are having a heated debate about who should replace the current British Quidditch keeper. Poppy Pomfey is nestled in a chair near the fire, chatting with Rosmerta and Mafalda Hopkirk. Augusta suspects it's their annual update about the state of their crups, and since Rosmerta's crup had a litter recently there must be plenty to discuss. There's a crush of bodies around the cheese and cakes, but Augusta can pick out Minerva McGonagall's hat and Nymphadora's bright pink hair.

Augusta is settled comfortably in the corner, where her cat Bramble is winding its way around Wilhelmina's legs.

"Amelia would be proud," Wilhelmina continues, and Augusta looks away.

"It wasn't the same without the Bones Solstice Party. Somebody had to do something."

"Yes," Wilhelmina says, taking out her pipe. There's a brief pause as she lights it and takes a couple of puffs. "But it's funny how many people won't do what needs doing. You're a good friend, Augusta."

Augusta clears her throat awkwardly. Wilhelmina watches her in silence for a few moments, puffing away on the pipe, and then Pomona arrives balancing three plates.

"Can't miss the food at your own party."

"Amelia's party," Augusta insists.

"The party you coordinated," Pomona corrects peaceably, handing each of them a plate piled high with food. "The chestnut cake is almost gone already. Minerva's a fiend for it! I swear she's consumed three slices."

They all glance over to where Minerva's hat can be seen above Augusta's dining table, suspiciously close to where Griselda had deposited the cake.

"One day she'll talk Griselda into giving her the recipe," Wilhelmina says.

"Never," Augusta puts in. "If I know Griselda, she'll take it to her deathbed."

"Sorry, Wil, but she's right. In all my time at Hogwarts, I've never seen Griselda change an exam grade. I think Minerva's met her match."

They all smile at that. Minerva's wit and sharp tongue are legendary. One year she argued with Amelia about Ministry education policy during the Solstice Party and there was such fiery language that Augusta half-expected sparks. The rest of the party had drifted into another room, well out of range, and the shouting was still in process when Augusta left. All the same, Minerva was there next year and Amelia had greeted her with as much affection as before. Amelia's willingness to put disagreements behind her was one of the things Augusta most admired, and played a not inconsiderable role in their friendship. She is, after all, not always the easiest person to get along with.

"Absolute tosh!" someone shouts, voice rising above the crowd, and Augusta looks around, finding a likely source in Rolanda and Gwennog. Rolanda's cheeks are pink and she's waving a hand wildly in the air. Gwennog's arms are crossed and she's wearing the stubborn expression that usually precedes one of her opponents being knocked out by a Bludger. "Tonks!" Rolanda calls, "you'll back me up on this!"

"Ah, the traditional Quidditch argument," says Charity Burbage, joining their group. "It would hardly be the Solstice Party without it."

Wilhelmina snorts around her pipe. Augusta takes the opportunity to try a bite of Charity's Christmas cake. It's really very good: fruity and moist in a way that hints at plenty of brandy.

"Give me five minutes and I'll break it up," Pomona offers.

"You mustn't! They're having such fun," Charity replies, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. "Besides, if Rolanda gets it out of her system then she won't natter on about Quidditch over breakfast."

Augusta snorts. "I am old enough to remember Rolanda's mother, who spent twenty forlorn years waiting for her daughter to outgrow Quidditch."

Charity sighs, Pomona smiles back at her, and Wilhelmina just puffs contentedly on her pipe, pausing only to drop some brie down to the cat.

"He won't eat it. He doesn't like cheese."

As if to contradict her deliberately, Bramble sniffs at the brie, and then eats it. When Augusta fixes Wilhelmina with a _Look_ , she shrugs half apologetically.

"Wil seduces all sorts of critters," Pomona says. "You should hear about the fuss she made of Minerva's Animagus form before she realized it wasn't really a cat."

Wilhelmina blushes, and Charity explodes in laughter. "You never told me that!"

"Really, Pomona?" Augusta says, trying to imagine the stern Professor McGonagall winding her way around someone's legs or snuggling on their lap. "What happened?"

"Wil swore me to secrecy about the details. You'll have to ask her."

"It would be ungentlemanly of me to reveal it," Wilhelmina says, looking uncomfortable.

In unison, they all look over at Minerva, who appears to be consuming a fourth slice of chestnut cake.

"You'll never get it out of her."

"With a defeatist attitude like that, the Muggles would never have flown to the moon!" Charity ripostes.

"That's just physics. I'd back Minerva McGonagall against the law of gravity any time," Pomona says, with affection in every syllable. Augusta can't disagree.

Across the room, newcomers have joined the party. Gertie Mockridge, Chair of the Magical Horticulture Society and the judge responsible for Augusta's loss in the Most Charming Herbaceous Border category at last year's show, has joined the discussion about crups. Esmerelda Radford from the Obliviator Squad is attempting to engage Minerva in conversation, possibly in an effort to lure her away from the cake. The cofounder of the Slug and Jiggers apothecary, Lucy Jiggers, is hovering beside the mulled wine with Griselda Marchbanks. From this distance it's impossible to tell whether the two of them are talking about gossip, booze, or potion ingredients. At least Augusta can trust that nobody will slip anything into the drinks - the year Gwennog tried that she received a bawling out from Amelia that even Augusta couldn't match.

Just audible beneath the hubbub, there's a quiet smash. Over by the Christmas tree, Augusta sees broken glass on the floor and Nymphadora in the process of vanishing a spilled drink.

"I'll check they're all right," Pomona says, beating Augusta to it, and hurries away.

"Does she fuss over you like that, Wil?" asks Charity, watching her go. "I can't decide if it would drive me crazy, or make me terribly spoiled."

"Once a Head of House, always a Head of House," Wilhelmina says equably, and Augusta remembers that Nymphadora was in Hufflepuff before she joined the Aurors. Poor Pomona must have grown used to fixing scuffed knees and broken objects.

The next moment, Augusta's attention is distracted by new guests: the tiny Bathilda Bagshot and behind her, Glenda Chittock, the Wizarding Wireless presenter. Glenda smiles widely as she greets people, while Bathilda makes straight for the food table and the remnants of chestnut cake.

"That's everyone," she says, thinking aloud.

"Oh good!" Charity announces.

Before Augusta can stop her, Charity sticks two fingers in her mouth and gives a piercing whistle. Almost instantly, the room hushes. "Now that we're all here, I want to hand things over to our host, Augusta Longbottom, to say a few words!"

Augusta glowers at Charity, and then at the expanding circle of expectant faces. _The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself_ she thinks, and then, _It's not about you. It's about Amelia._

"Thank you for coming," she begins hesitantly. "I'm honored to have known Amelia. She was a rising star in the Ministry when my son Frank joined, and she always did her best to take care of new Aurors. She did her best for a lot of people in the Ministry and beyond, as many of you can testify."

Around the room, heads were nodding.

Augusta takes a deep, steadying breath before continuing. "It seemed wrong for this year to pass without an Amelia Bones Solstice Party - the thirty-fourth Amelia Bones Solstice Party. The first year Amelia invited me I had no idea what to expect, but I came to appreciate how much she gave us all by bringing witches together. During the war it seemed impossible to imagine that people could still go to parties, but Amelia showed us it could be done. She believed that friendship is part of the fight against evil. Her Solstice Party was a bright spot in the darkest period of my life, and I am grateful to her for that." Augusta's throat is closing up, and she has to force out the final words, "I wanted a chance to thank her."

"Here here!" Gwennog shouts, and as Augusta looks around the room, she sees a collection of nods and smiles.

"Now," Augusta says, looking around for someone to shift the spotlight onto. "Would anyone else like to speak? I know Griselda, Bathilda, and Lucy have been here since the beginning."

"Nobody wants to listen to me," Griselda says, in a tone that brooks no contradiction.

Augusta peers around for Bathilda, and raises her eyebrows in query. With a slight smile, Bathilda shakes her head. "Lucy?"

Lucy hesitates. "Shouldn't we all get a chance to say something?"

"We'll be here all night if we do that," Gwennog booms. "You know how Amelia felt about windbags. Keep it short and sweet, Lucy."

"But it seems unfair that I get to speak and people who joined more recently don't."

"Then perhaps Tonks, as our newest addition," suggests Minerva.

"Yes!" Gwennog declares. "Lucy and Tonks."

Augusta sees Lucy look around the room for objections and find none.

"Well, Amelia and I were in Ravenclaw together," Lucy begins. "She was smart and loyal, but never afraid to tell me that I was wrong. It's not exaggerating to say that Amelia was my moral compass, and I don't believe that anyone could have a better friend. When this tradition began, I thought it was just a party, but it's not, is it? Glenda and I met because of this, and developed the idea for our Ingredients of Magic series over punch and chestnut cake. Amelia brought together women who'd never spoken to each other outside the Ministry tearoom, and gave us the space to talk openly. It was at a Solstice Party that Amelia introduced Wilhelmina and Pomona. Nineteen eighty-four was it?"

"Eighty-five," Wilhelmina corrects, voice lightly muffled by the pipe.

The room is silent now, everyone focused on Lucy.

"The Death Eaters may have murdered Amelia, but they can't take away the love and connections she created," Lucy says. "I'm glad we're here tonight. I know that Amelia would be glad too. To my dear friend, Amelia Bones!"

"Amelia Bones!" Augusta calls out, and for an instant it seems as though the sound of all their voices might lift up her ceiling. Across the room, glasses are raised and emptied.

"You're up, Tonks," Rolanda says, and Augusta sees Gwennog give her a little push.

"Um, right," Tonks says, half stumbling as she moves to the centre of the room. "Right. I didn't know Amelia as well as most of you. Any of you, maybe. She was a lecturer during Auror training, and she's - she was - a role model for the women in the program. I always looked up to her. She didn't go out in the field much after I started, but she never forgot what it was like. Madam Bones - Amelia - came to talk to me when I was still shaking from my first real dust-up with the Death Eaters, and told me the dirtiest jokes you can imagine. I was so shocked I nearly choked. She was on the Wizengamot, but not stuffy at all. I'm rambling now, because I don't know what I could say that you don't all know. I mean, you knew her. She was an incredibly talented witch, and a mentor to me, and the Ministry's biggest threat to the Death Eaters. I miss her."

"Well spoken, Tonks," says Minerva, and Nymphadora looks grateful.

"If Amelia were here then, I think she'd join me in thanking Augusta for hosting us," Gwennog shouts, and there is a chorus of cheers and agreement. "And now, in Amelia's inimitable words, let's have less bullshit and more booze!"

There is a chorus of laughter, some scattered applause, and about half the group move away in the direction of the drinks. Gwennog saunters over and claps Augusta on the back.

"I'm not ashamed to admit that I didn't warm up to you when we first met, but you've done a bloody good job. Amelia would be proud."

Augusta looks around the room: at Pomona and Wilhelmina underneath a spring of mistletoe, at Griselda and Rosmerta's animated conversation in front of the fire, and at the crowd of noisy witches refilling their glasses.

"The party must go on," Augusta says, thinking of Amelia's party last year, then the year before, and all the years before that.

"Of course it must," Gwennog agrees. "Now that you've done such a fine job of organizing it, we'll be expecting an invitation from you again next year."

"Next year..."Augusta says weakly.

Gwennog grins. "Of course next year! We can't break the tradition now. It'll be the 35th Amelia Bones Solstice Party. I'm looking forward to it already."  



End file.
